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I know most people express their love for facially-based follicles in November, so you can accuse me of being behind the times or unfashionable or whatever. That’s okay. I can take it. My current celebration of the scruffy stuff is inspired by Christmas.

No, that’s not why.

Wrong again.

One of my oldest friends was my Secret Santa and, knowing me a little too well, gave me this fella’.

His name is Valentino. Swoon.

He loves Christmas, Spanish reds, and sweet potato pancakes.

Back on track.

Valentino’s glorious arrival comes on the heels of a discussion among my housemates about facial hair. Specifically, the fact that beards seem to be considered trustworthy and lovely, while moustaches are only for men who want to tie you to the train tracks or worse.

I tried to defend the moustache by listing all of the trustworthy and wholesome ones in the world, but my struggle to do so pretty much proved my opponents' argument.

So what does this mean?

Probably not a whole lot in the grand scheme of things.

I am almost positive, however, that there is a mathematical equation that explains my particular relationship with facial hair. That is, the more questionable and unsavoury a man's facial hair is, the more likely I am to trust/be attracted to him.

Exceptions:

Starburns from Community.

Neckbeards.

'Prove it, Liz! You can't just make these wild statements. Back up your thesis. See, this is why you'll never succeed as an academic. You make me sick.'

Okay. Ouch, but I get your drift.

Exhibit A: John Waters

The pencil-thin moustache is associated with general creepiness the world over, and matching it with a Santa hat for a mugshot isn't likely to endear one to the PTA any time soon. Knowing that this type of moustache is so reviled should be enough to dissuade any man from cultivating one for himself. But he's John fucking Waters. Man gets the joke. I appreciate that. I'd much rather leave the kids with him if I'm out for the night than with that snotty girl from up the block. Psh. Charging me twelve bucks and hour so you can sit on my couch and eat all the Pringles? I don't think so.

What I am trying to say is that I trust him because he can laugh at himself. And I kind of adore him anyway.

Exhibit B: Tom Waits

Not a moustache, I know, but a soul patch is just the worst. We all know it. If we go back to that old math equation, though, it holds true.

It's the most hated of facial hair formations.

And he is the hottest thing on two legs.

Do the math.

Exhibit C: Sam Rockwell

Mr. Rockwell has made a career out of being skeazy-but-endearing, so it stands to reason that he would have something awful on his upper lip at some stage. He makes people feel the need to shower. Whether those showers are hot or cold, however, depends on the person. Heyyyo. But, really. The man looks shady enough without the 'stache, so it's addition should be the proverbial cricket bat to the skull. And yet, dear readers, as I sit here all schnuggly in my jimjams I find myself wishing I had his number so I could invite him over for a movie night. Because he looks like a solid guy. And he'd probably bring a few of the remaining cans of Four Loko in the area to make it a party. He's a good friend.

Exhibit D: Zachariah Hickman

There is nothing to defend here. This moustache is the stuff of legends.

Plus, there's the song.

Follower Love-Fest #16: Gazel M

Were it not for the fact that she does, I'd be convinced that Gazel is too cute to function. Her blog, Bonjour Gazel, is a dreamland of cute smiles and fantastic clothes. Not gonna' lie, kids, I kind of want to be her. Or, at the very least, to live in the Narnia of her wardrobe. Just cardigans and blouses and ruby shoes all day. And, I know this might be creepy, but Mr. Waters would support me in saying that this girl has the most perfect mastery of lipstick in the history of lip rouging. Oh, and you should buy things (for me) from her.